Thanks for the Snot Nachos MOM!
Few jobs suck harder than that of a server’s. Sure, you could be toiling away endlessly in a sweat shop or factory for pennies a day or maybe you were born into the underground sex slave industry which pays nothing and add to that, you contracted genital warts from a fat slob who didn’t dig wearing a rubber.
Regardless the scenario, I still say being a server sucks more. Being that I’ve never worked in sweatshop conditions or been forced into prostitution it’s awfully easy for me to make this claim. But please, hear me out.
As a server, you are willfully being someone’s bitch every single day you go to work and you’re practically begging them for money. The job as a waiter/waitress is one of the only jobs I know of where you can do an outstanding job and still get paid ZERO if the customer decides not to tip. At least the sweatshop worker gets guaranteed their pennies and the sex slave will have the occasional orgasm.
As a server, I have seen nights where I would work my ass off for some people only to be treated like shit then paid next to nothing (or nothing) at the end of the debacle. In fact, since most establishments require that servers tip hosting, bussing and bar staff for helping them with their tables, I’ve waited on tables before that COST ME MONEY! And this isn’t because I was bad at my job. This is universal and has happened to every server multiple times! Few things suck in life worse than being in a situation where your life/schedule demands you have a job with the scheduling flexability that only a restaraunt can offer.
With that being said, I’m always nice to the server. And trust me when I say that your server is very gracious when you tip them well.
My mom has never been a server and never worked for someone who could decide not to pay them if they wished not to. My mom is consistenly very rude to servers and she has a tendency to unknowingly talk down to them and runs them to death with endless requests. The crazy thing is my mom is a nice person, she just happens to be unbearable at restaraunts!
Last night my wife and I went to a Mexican restaurant with my parents. As usual my mom spent the evening asking for endless pints of salsa, she got up excessively to get her own napkins and if she could have found where they kept the tea pitcher she’d have filled her own drink.
Our server was not a bad server, she was simply busy and I could tell that my mother was wearing her down quickly.
The night came and gone. My parents paid the bill and I decided to keep my criticisms to myself since I reaped the benefits of a free meal. My mom only ate a fourth of her chicken nachos and was kind enough to give me the leftovers to bring for lunch today.
Noontime rolls around today and I’m craving those chicken nachos. I go to the office fridge, pop those bad boys into the microwave and in a few short minutes they’re steaming.
I sit down in my desk and immediately start digging in. It’s delicious! There’s bell peppers, onion, shredded chicken and cheese and in the dead center of the leftovers… a green sticky substance?
Is that guacamole? No. Is that soggy lettuce? No. It’s a big honkin loogie!
I immediately called up my mother:
Peavey: Hey mom, you remember last night when you were a major jerk to our server? Well, they spit a freaking loogie into your dinner and I got it cause I’m eating your leftovers! That loogie was meant for you!
Mom: What? Well, did you save the leftovers? I would have taken them up there and got my money back?
Peavey (screaming): What? Mom, there’s a freaking loogie in this food, do you not see a problem here?! I had to throw it away and now I don’t have any lunch!
Mom: Well you shouldn’t be so cheap, go get your own lunch then. I only ever eat a little bit of my food anyway. So I wouldn’t get it any how.
Peavey (screaming louder): Mom! Do you not see the problem here? You are always a jerk to the servers and now you’re getting spit in your food MOM! Do you not see a problem with this picture?
Mom: Well was the food good?
Peavey (franticly pleading): No I didn’t like the food. I don’t like LOOGIES IN MY NACHOS!
And so the conversation goes. God, I can’t believe how dense she was being.
I didn’t take a pic of the loogie, which I regret. But please use this as a tale of caution. Do not piss off the people who handle your food.